All About Who
by Straight As A Candycane
Summary: Watson comes home to a shocking discovery. Prequel to Rock Bottom.


Watson let out a sigh as he walked into the dark house, rubbing his forehead. "I hope Holmes is sleeping. As if I haven't had enough to deal with tonight," he muttered, taking his jacket off and hanging it on the coat hanger next to the door. As he let his mind clear and tried to relax, he noticed odd sounds coming from upstairs. _What the hell?_ he wondered.

A myriad of sounds came from the bedroom above him and Watson looked up the staircase curiously. After a moment, he gave into his curiosity and started up the stairs, thinking, _Holmes wouldn't sink to the level of a prostitute...would he?_ He hesitated with his hand on the doorknob, having a strange feeling that he wouldn't like what he found behind the heavy oak door.

After a moment, he shook the feeling away and pushed the door open, catching Holmes and a very familiar woman by surprise. "Mary?" he exclaimed, shocked to see her occupying the bed with Holmes, engaged in what he could only assume had been sexual acts. The two sat up quickly, neither making much of an attempt to cover themselves. "What in God's name is going on here?" he asked, his emotions finally catching up with the anger that filled him.

"Well, it isn't exactly in God's name, now is it?" Holmes replied simply as he sat up straight in the bed. Mary only glared coldly at Watson, not saying a word.

As Watson opened his mouth to try and say something more, Mary spoke up, "Finally got your attention, didn't I?" Her speech was slurred and it was clear that she had had more than a few drinks that night.

Watson stared at her, mouth wide open, for a few moments, looking her over before turning his gaze back to Holmes. "Holmes, what the hell did you do?" he snarled.

As soon as he said it, Mary jumped out of the bed, fuming as she grabbed her clothes again. As she rushed to throw them on, she yelled, "And still, it's all about him!"

"Mary, please. You're drunk and not thinking clearly," he told her calmly, a pang of confused fear in his voice.

"My mind has never been clearer, John," she snarled in his face, their eyes locked. Watson soon turned his gaze to the ground, unable to look her in the eyes any longer. "You aren't even mad at me for cheating on you, are you? You're more angry at him for finding pleasure with someone other than you. Admit it!" she yelled.

Watson let out a sigh and rubbed his forehead. "Mary, please. Do we have to have this argument here?" She looked ready to argue, but she decided against it, choosing to simply storm out of the room instead. Watson and Holmes could hear Mary rush down the stairs and out the door, slamming it shut behind her.

There was an awkward silence between them for a few minutes before Holmes spoke up, almost in a clearer state of mind, "So, she cheats on you, and then yells at you...for being unfaithful? Seems a bit backwards, doesn't it?"

"Holmes, you have no room to talk!" Watson growled at him, his gaze snapping back to Holmes. "You slept with my wife, y-"

"In my defense, she came to me," Holmes interrupted, holding up an analytical forefinger. "Much like you used to on so many lonely nights," he added matter-of-factly, shifting in the bed to a somewhat seductive pose.

It took Watson a minute to fully read Holmes, but when he did, he became enraged. "No, Holmes!" he shouted. "Is sex all you can think about?"

"Only on...what day is it?" he asked.

"Saturday," Watson replied, rubbing his forehead.

"Only on Saturdays!" he finished, settling into a more comfortable position on the bed, reaching for his pipe before being distracted by Watson again.

"...I don't know why I even bother trying to reason with you," Watson muttered. "You are a genius when it comes to solving cases, but you understand nothing about the real world," he snarled, looking coldly at Holmes.

"Sex, murder and drugs. What else is to be understood?" Holmes said casually, picking up his pipe. Watson rolled his eyes before storming over and snatching the pipe from his hand. "Well, it's true," Holmes muttered, grabbing at the pipe while Watson held it out of his reach. After a few more attempts, Holmes grinned, starting to think of it as a game.

When Watson noticed this, he threw the pipe into Holmes' lap. "Dammit, Holmes! Why do I even bother?" he shouted.

"I've been wondering that myself," he replied casually, shrugging.

Watson started to argue with him, but stopped himself quickly. "You know what, Holmes? I can't deal with this now, and I don't want to," he said, turning and walking towards the door. He paused only to say, "You've got to accept it. I'm getting married, and I'm moving on." He turned his gaze to Holmes and firmly said, "I don't love you anymore."

With that, Watson turned and walked out on Holmes. The grin slid off Holmes face as he took in what had been said. He jumped out of the bed, tripping over his clothes as he pulled them on. While he pulled his shirt on, he rushed to the window, throwing it open and watching Watson starting to walk down the street.

"No...I can't lose him," he whispered to himself before darting out of the room after him.


End file.
